


Erotomania

by lesbianettes



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Violence, Breaking and Entering, Buck Whump, Erotomania, Erotomanic!Abby, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Harassment, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt No Comfort, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, POV Abby, Social Media Stalking, Stalker!Abby, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:53:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25560877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianettes/pseuds/lesbianettes
Summary: Erotomania (n): A delusion in which a person believes that another person, typically of higher social status, is in love with them.Ex. Abby Clark has an erotomanic delusion centered around Evan Buckley.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Abby Clark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120





	Erotomania

He thanked her.

It plays on a loop in her head, long after she finishes her shift and has a glass or two of wine. He had thanked her, with such honesty and kindness in his voice that Abby had no choice but to pull him up on the computer after she found out everyone was safe. She remembered the name he gave, pulled it up in her system right alongside the cell phone number on the logs of the call, and spent a long time staring at what came up. His picture was recent. He was still new on the LAFD, tagged as less than a year. He’s still probationary. But his frame was strong, topped with blue eyes and this beautiful smile. She copied it all down in the notes app of her phone, took a photo of her screen. Now, at home, she looks at the picture of a picture, and thinks about the way he thanked her. 

It means something. No one has ever done that before, but he did, and that means that he cares about her on the other end of the line. There’s no need for a “missed connection” ad in the paper, or to stop by the station house in search of him. She has everything she needs to know. Evan Buckley of the 118 lives only a couple blocks away, and he’s medicated for depression, and his emergency contact is his firehouse captain. He must be so lonely. If she talks to him, he won’t be lonely anymore, and she can bring him the same flood of warmth he brought her when he thanked her, something no other person, civilian or first responder, has ever tried to do.

Clearly, this is some sort of sign. The two of them were brought together on that call by a higher power. Evan needs someone to hold him, bring light back to his life, and Abby needs someone who understands her. They can be these things for each other. His words play again in her mind.  _ Thank you _ . She’s here now, and she’ll hear it again, another thanks for putting him back together.

She’s almost too nervous to call, the first time, when she puts the number in the records into her personal phone, saves it, she knows she’s taking a leap of faith. There’s the chance he might not understand, at first. No. He’ll get it. He thanked her, he wanted her to call him again, remind him of her voice and her dedication to helping people, just like him.

At first, it rings. The line rings and rings and rings and rings until she isn’t sure if she can take it anymore. She spends all day on the phone, jumping from one call to the next, never having to wait a second after one ends before the next voice is frantic in her ears. Just as she’s going to hang up, he answers, and her heart is soothed.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s um-” She’s nervous, without the official pretense of the emergency. “It’s Abby Clark, I was the 911 operator on that call, the other day. The one with the home invasion, and the little girl?”

“Oh, yeah. You did great. How did you get this number?”

At least he’s nervous too. He can sense that they have a future on the line, and he doesn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize it, same as her. They really are two halves of a whole. She settles back against her couch and listens to the faded voices on his end of the line, empty and unnecessary compared to him. In his official photo, he’s wearing dress blues, but she imagines he’d fill out his every day uniform just as beautifully. 

“Abby?”

“Right, sorry, I got distracted. It was in the report. I just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing? A lot of first responders I talk to get hurt, or worse, and I just wanted to make sure you’re still doing alright.”

He chuckles, and she hears someone call his last name. He must be on a call. She should have thought of that; he has nothing outside of the firehouse, of course he must be working more often than not. But still, he took the time to answer her call. Deep down, he knew it was important. 

“I’m fine, thanks. Listen, I’m busy with work, okay? Have a good one.”

Then he hangs up without waiting for her response. It’s a little rude, curt, but he’s at an emergency. She can forgive him. In the silence, she holds her phone against her chest and fights back a smile. They’ve connected again, and they’ll do it more. When he’s off shift, she’ll call him back, and they can have an actual conversation. She wants to know everything. What pajamas he wears, his favorite drink, the music on his phone. So far, all she knows is what the reports have listed, but obviously there’s more than that to a person. 

She looks his name up on her phone, finding so many results it’s dizzying. The top few are news interviews, showing him after some crazy rescue he pulled on a high rise. He’s happy, energetic, even on the cameras. Just as much so as he was during that rescue. His body moves constantly, a bouncing, happy motion. But his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He needs her. 

Beneath those, she finds his social media. First his facebook, which says that he prefers the name Buck, floods her screen with status updates and photos of himself with the 118 crew. They’re mostly stiff. It’s the kind of thing that he keeps because of old fashioned family members, and probably his captain as well, but she sends a friend request anyways. Then she finds his instagram, and that’s jaw-dropping. It’s peppered in selfies of him working out, showing off his muscles. He smiles in most photos, pouts in the rest. In all of them he’s stunning, but alone. Same as with his facebook, she follows him. There’s so many thousands who have already done the same, but none of them are connected to Buck the way she is. For nearly an hour, she goes through the page, liking each photo and leaving an encouraging comment for him to smile about. She tells him how beautiful he is, how much she loves his smile, how kind and intelligent he is. He’ll see those comments, and he’ll understand. He’ll come back to her.

When she falls asleep that night, it’s looking at the crisp photos of his face, craving his arms around her. He looks like he’s warm. She can just tell that he gives could hugs and he’d hold her close when they make love. He seems the sort to make dinner after, too. Abby can just tell she’s a gentleman. As she drifts off, she plays the loop of his thanks once more. 

First thing in the morning, Abby calls him again, but it tells her the number is disconnected. That can’t be right. She turns to his facebook page, which is empty, and his instagram, which shows that it’s private and she’s unable to follow. Someone saw that she was helping him, and decided to stop it. Her first instinct is to scream. But instead, she takes a deep breath, and thanks her past self for taking so many screenshots of his instagram last night. 

If she can’t call him, she’ll have to go see him in person. At least she doesn’t have work today, so there’s nothing to do besides find him. She has his address copied down, and it’s only a ten second internet search to find the address for station 118. She’ll start off at the firehouse, because she knows that the job is his life, and if she’s there, she can prove to whoever decided to block her from Buck that she isn’t going away. The two of them are meant for each other.

Between the demands of her job and taking care of her recently deceased mother, it’s been a while since Abby drove anywhere outside of her usual circle. It’s a welcome adventure to traverse new blocks in search of the firehouse. It’s not too hard to find once she’s on the right block. It’s a huge blocky building with wide open garages, the trucks well polished and gleaming in the morning sun. “118” is emblazoned on the side. And, to top it off, as she parks she recognizes the jeep in the lot from Buck’s instagram page. He’s inside.

She checks her reflection in the little mirror. This is the first time Buck is seeing her in person, she needs to look perfect. The little makeup she put on before leaving the house is just enough to complement her features and the pink dress she hasn’t had an opportunity to wear in far too long. He’ll see her and know she’s the one. 

Like calling him for the first time, it’s nerve-wracking to go into the firehouse, knowing Buck is in there. This is important. She even spent time cleaning her lenses until they're clearer than the day she got them, that way he can look into her eyes and truly see her. 

The team are all downstairs when she walks in, sorting through supplies to go into their gear bags. She recognizes them from Buck’s facebook, vaguely, but the only one she cares to look at is him. He’s so much more stunning in person. The way the light catches his eyes and plays off his golden skin is going to be the death of her, she’s certain of it. The captain steps forward when he notices her there, extending a hand. 

“I’m Captain Nash, is there something we can help you with, ma’am?”

She can’t help her eyes slipping toward Buck. “I just came to talk to Evan Buckley for a minute, if you’re not too busy.” 

Buck stands up and looks her over, that friendly half-smile clinging to his lips. She can’t wait to kiss him. It’ll have to wait until they’re alone, of course, but she can imagine it already. Her fantasies call back the warmth of those large, capable hands on her hips. 

“That’s me. And you are?”

“Abby Clark, we talked yesterday.” 

He swallows and glances back at his team. Probably to tell them that they’re going somewhere private. His hand is gentle but firm between her shoulder blades, leading her toward a locker room with glass windows. Interesting choice. But it means if she came by to pick him up after a shift, she’d be able to watch him change, see the show he’s putting on for her. The rest of his team watches. It sparks a flare of fury within her, but she knows that they don’t have Buck the way she does. Their opinions don’t matter. 

“Look, I thought you’d get the hint when I blocked you,” Buck says. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at the dirty tile floor. “I’m sorry, but I’m just not interested, okay? And you really shouldn’t be getting people’s numbers out of 911 reports, that’s weird. Leave me alone, please.”

“You don’t really think that, we’re meant to be together. The phone call-”

Buck shakes his head. “We don’t know each other. Just back off, or I’ll get the police involved.”

“We have time to get to know each other!” Abby reaches for him, to touch his stubbled jaw and make him understand, only for him to swat her arm away and take a step back, leaving the air between them cold and empty. “Buck, I don’t know why you’re being like this-”

“Because I don’t know you! You got my number illegally, you stalked my social media, and now you’re showing up at my work. Leave me alone. Get out of my firehouse. If you don’t, I will have you arrested, I’m not kidding.”

Again, she reaches out. She needs to feel his lips, his arms, his chest. She has to touch him. If he’s going to be difficult and drag this out, she’s okay with that, but she needs to have with her a memory of his body to fill the long nights. No matter what she’s not going to give up on him. But she needs something.

For a split second, her fingers skim his hand. 

Then she finds her arm up against the glass wall, pinned there by his strong grip. His eyes are full of fire. Passion. He wants her, even if he can’t accept that yet, and by touching her, he’s letting himself realize the possibilities of all they could have. This is the beginning of so much more. 

“Buck,” she sighs.

“Leave me the hell alone.”

He lets go of her and stalks out of the locker room back to his friends. They’re all looking at her. The rejection stings, but she knows that it’s just a bump in the road for the two of them. Buck thanked her. He understood her. She can’t pretend that their connection doesn’t exist, and he can’t either. This will all be a memory to laugh at one day. For the moment, she’ll give him the space he needs. As their murmurs fill the air, she walks back to her car. It’s going to be okay.

Instead of going home, she runs by the electronics store to get a couple of those webcams people use on the internet when they’re pulling pranks on each other. Abby doesn’t know a ton about them, but she knows the basics, and the employee in a violently blue polo is more than happy to fill her in on things she doesn’t know. The set she winds up buying is supposed to be a security system. Perfect. She’ll be able to watch, and keep seeing Buck even when he’s not ready to see her. 

Knowing that he’s on shift, and will be all day, she doesn’t worry about being seen by him as she plugs the address on his personnel file into her car’s GPS. After the first time, she won’t need that to find it. Then there won’t be traces of her looking after him. Besides, no one bats an eye at her smiling as she finds his apartment, and lifts the doormat to find his spare key. It’s not surprising that he’d leave one there. Buck is so sweet and trusting. She pockets it for now, so she can get a copy made before he comes home, and goes inside to set up the handful of cameras she bought.

The first one goes in his living room, on the bottom floor. It’s positioned in the corner in such a way that it captures the whole place. She doesn’t need detail down here, just to know when he’s home and who he’s with. The second and third go in his bedroom loft. One overhead, to see the room, and one nestled up in the fronds of a fake plant posed on his night stand. Finally, she places two in the bathroom, so she can see him in and out of the shower. While he comes to terms with the fact that they’re meant to be together, she can keep a watchful eye on his daily activities.

By the time she gets home at the end of the day, Buck’s apartment left the way she found it and her copy of his key slipped onto the ring in her purse, she’s tired and ready to relax by watching him. He took away his social media, fine. This is better anyways. 

He comes home by himself with takeout. Poor thing. She’d cook for him. The fast food can’t be the best thing to put in his body, but Abby knows from experience how hard it is to cook for one. It’s one more thing in their lives that will improve when Buck accepts that they’re meant to be together. From the weighty lean of his body against the counter, she can tell he’s tired. He works so hard. Every day, he saves people. 

Most of what he does is fairly routine, but she aches with how much she wants to join him in the most mundane of tasks. She’s desperate to do dishes at his side, set his pajamas out on the bed, refill his ice trays when he uses them up. But none of that holds a candle to his evening routine, when he strips down and gets in the shower. He must know, she realizes as she watches him. Buck has to be aware that she’s watching, because there’s no other explanation for the sensual way he trails his hands over his sculpted chest, or stretches his muscles under the stream of hot water. She knew he wanted her. He just couldn’t show it in front of his teammates.

Abby sets up the laptop beside her on the bed, keeping the screen angled so she can watch him shower as she touches herself. He takes much longer than he would if he was just focused on getting clean. No, this is for her. He loves her. He wants her to see him. And she does, in all his beauty as he scrubs the sweat, ash and dirt from his body with enticing care, the exact way she imagines he would feel his way around her. It’s too much. He’s perfect and she doesn’t know how he expects her to wait, but she has to try. At least for now. She brings herself over the edge to the sight of him in that shower, and spends the rest of her evening until she falls asleep watching him. The steady rise and fall of his chest is her company for the night. Soon. They’ll be together soon.

Over the next few days, she keeps her distance, although she’s more than happy to send the 118 on every call possible. It feels like a connection, sending him to help someone else in the same way they met. It also gives her hope. If they need to contact dispatch during this call, they’ll go to her, and it might allow her to hear his voice again. Seeing is good, but it’s not good enough. She waits, but gets nothing for days. Buck keeps showing off for her in the shower, but nothing else. He’s telling her he needs more. She has to show her devotion.

So she sends him a gift. A delivery from a local bakery, arriving right as he normally sits down for breakfast. His normal cereal isn’t good enough for him, but the fresh pastries are, and it’ll show him that she’s still watching. Although she respects his need for time, she’s not going to give up on him. There’s a pleasant smile on his face. He’s happy. He likes what she’s done. She spends her own breakfast watching him enjoy her gift. 

This is perfect. He’s starting to accept that they’re meant for each other, and this means she can do more. She’s going to leave him more presents until he’s ready to reach out to her again. The mere thought of being inside his home again has her heart racing. She can climb into his bed. Look in his fridge. If she goes at night, while he sleeps, she can touch him in the ways he was too shy to allow the last time they met. He might be a light sleeper- most first responders are- so she can go in early, put something in his drink, and wait. It’ll make it easier for him, this first time. 

She crushes up some of her mother’s sleeping pills and puts them in a baggy to toss into Buck’s electrolyte drink, the one he always has when he gets home from work. That’ll make him tired, put him to bed. It’s so simple. Sure, Abby feels kind of guilty about it, but it’s the only way forward for them while Buck is still coming to terms with the fact that they’re meant for each other. 

Using her key feels so domestic. It’s as though she’s coming home to him at the end of a long day, which in a way, she is. It’s peaceful. She fixes up his drink and hides the other two bottles in the cabinet to ensure he drinks the right one. After his drink, he’ll be tired in twenty, out in thirty. Hopefully he’ll get to his bed, but if he doesn’t, she’ll at least bring him to the couch. She wants him to be safe, of course. Not hurt. Not uncomfortable. It’s easiest if she waits here for him, instead of trying to come back later, so she gets comfortable in the coat closet Buck never opens. 

He’s home an hour or so later, tired but humming to himself as he opens the fridge and drinks it down. She can hear him toss the empty bottle. Buck wastes a bit of time eating something from a plastic bag, probably chips, and playing a menial game on his phone until he starts to yawn. He’s tired. He needs the rest anyways, this is what’s best for him. 

Abby waits until forty minutes have passed from the time he finished his drink, just in case, before she comes out of the closet and surveys the area. Luckily, it seems Buck has made it up to his bed. That makes for better rest. While he peacefully dreams, she tidies up the snacks he left on the counter and makes him a plate for his breakfast in the morning. Cut up strawberries, a muffin from today’s gift, and bacon that can be easily reheated. He’ll probably still be groggy when he wakes up, and this is her apology for that disorientation she’s caused. 

Once all that’s done, she gives herself time to spend with him, buried under his soft blankets and in his arms. He’ll be dead to the world for a while, so she doesn’t feel guilty setting an alarm for three hours. Three hours is more than enough. Abby can barely keep her head straight not to fall on her way up the stairs, or get caught in her clothes as she strips out of them to get the most skin to skin contact with Buck. Getting his shirt off is actually easier. 

The struggle and the pills were worth it for this.

She rests her head against his chest and traces over his muscles with her fingertips. His heartbeat is slow and steady. At peace. It’s because of her that he’s this peaceful, resting without any nightmares or anxiety. On the cameras, he often moves too much in his sleep. He wakes up often. Afraid. He doesn’t have to be afraid anymore, not with her beside him. Buck never has to suffer again. Before long, he’ll realize all she’s doing for him, and they can go faster. Move in, get married, start a family together. He’d be such a good father. She can tell he’d read the best stories, and make time for saturday morning soccer games. 

Knowing that she has to leave soon ruins some of the peace of laying beside him, but she still enjoys it for as long as she can until her alarm goes off. Leaving him is the hardest thing in the world, even if Abby knows it’s the right thing to do and it’s just temporary, anyway. She can’t resist kissing him before she goes, or applying a layer of lipstick just to make sure it leaves a mark on his face to remember her by. 

“I’ll be back,” she tells his sleeping body, and she leaves.

Her evening is relaxed with the memory of his touch, leaving her to sleep just as peacefully until morning comes and she watches him on the cameras. He wakes up slow and confused. Buck touches his chest, confused, before he glances at his shirt on the floor. He doesn’t remember. But he’s well-rested and stumbles down the stairs to find the breakfast she made for him in the fridge. Then he sees his reflection on the stainless steel and he touches his cheek. The kiss she left for him. She smiles at the memory. She intends to just watch him get ready, but all he does is call someone on the phone and lean against his countertop. Something is wrong.

She calls him, but it gives the same message as last time, meaning that he has yet to get around to unblocking her number. She has to go check on him. As she gets in her car and finds her way back to his address, she keeps the camera up on her phone. Just in case, she brings her mother’s sleeping pills as well. They can’t hurt. Buck remains alone for most of the drive, but then a woman arrives with him. A police officer, in uniform. She comforts him, touches his shoulder and offers him a makeup wipe for his cheek. This woman is getting rid of Abby’s mark, putting her hands on something that doesn’t belong to her.

When Abby gets to Buck’s complex, she parks her car behind his and waits. He’ll have to come soon, because this police officer won’t let him stay in the sanctuary Abby helped cultivate. So she sits here, waiting, until Buck walks out the front door of his apartment and leaves the officer there to look around. She’s probably making sure Abby isn’t inside. 

Buck comes out a couple minutes later, holding a duffel bag on his shoulder and a phone to his ear. When she gets out of her car, she can hear him talking. 

“-Athena’s here now. Chim, she was inside my apartment. She was there while I slept. She kissed me. She was in my fridge. She fucking undressed me, I can’t- I can’t stay there.” There’s a pause as Buck pulls out his keys. “Thank you so much, I-”

Before he finishes speaking, Abby grabs him by the back of his head and slams his face against his car. He cries out. Drops his phone. Faintly, she hears ‘Chim’ ask Buck if he’s alright, what’s going on. But that’s not important. Buck tries to fight her off, so she shoves his face into the truck again. While it doesn’t knock him out, it leaves him weak enough to drag his heavy body into the back of her car. She doesn’t know where she’ll take him that they won’t find them right away, but they can’t stay here.

Buck was on the phone, so she doesn’t have much time. Once she gets Buck down in the back seat, she forces a couple of pills into his mouth, followed by water. “Drink,” she orders, over and over again as he struggles beneath her until she pinches his nose and he has no choice but to swallow. The pills will knock him out until she can get him somewhere safe. This is for the best. She allows herself thirty seconds to push his soft hair out of his face and wipe the blood from his eyes, but that’s it. They have to go. He weakly bats her hand away.

“Shh, relax,” she whispers. “You’re safe now. I’m gonna take you somewhere safe.”

His wide eyes follow her as she climbs over the center console to get back in the driver’s seat. She has to wipe her hand on her jeans, cleaning off some of his blood, before she starts the car and peels off the street. Soon, people will be looking. They don’t understand. But luckily, Abby knows all these protocols. She’s a 911 operator, has taken hundreds of these calls and directed police what to do. She needs to go North, because most people go South when they’re on the run, toward Mexico. North, but not east, towards other states. Keep along the coast. Once she’s out of LA, she has to change cars. Or ditch hers, anyways. She can’t use any of her credit cards, or Buck’s, but she has a couple hundred in cash on her, and he might have more. She can trade the cards for more in a seedy area of another town. It’s going to be fine.

Buck whimpers in the back seat when they go over a pothole. She glances back to see him cradling his head in his hands, but not doing much else. “Just rest, baby. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” He doesn’t make a sound in response, but she can still see his eyes in the rearview mirror. Soon, he’ll be asleep, and it’ll be easier on them both. 

Abby drives for a few hours before they stop for gas off the interstate one. Buck is resting and still. She takes his wallet and empties it of his cards, including his license, which she drops into the trash. There’s a group of young men smoking off to the side, drinking beers and joking around. They’re the right sort, she thinks. Their pale faces meet hers across the lot. It’s the middle of the day, but she’s not judging them. In fact, once she gets the gas pump started, she approaches them with the cards extended. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” one of the kids says, taking a step back. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I know.”

She holds out the credit cards to him. 

“These all have at least a thousand on them. I don’t need them anymore you can have them if you want.”

He looks her up and down, focusing on the stain on her pants for a little too long. “And what’s in it for you?”

“Got any cash?”

She lets him use one of the cards inside to buy another case of beer, just to prove that they work, and himself and his buddies fork over around three hundred between them, one even using his ATM to provide most of the cash. With that taken care of, she has nothing left to worry about, and the money to stay in a motel until everyone gives up looking. It’s just her and Buck against the world now. They have each other. 

Just in case, she sits with him in the back seat and checks him over. He’s stopped bleeding, but he’s still breathing and his pulse is strong. He doesn’t move when she cups his face and kisses his sticky forehead. She should get him some tylenol, because that’ll hurt when he wakes up. And since she’s at the gas station, some food as well. There’s no harm in it, since she’s already here. She leaves him there with a gentle kiss to the cheek so she can get supplies. 

No one questions her inside, and there are no more stops as she goes as far up the coast as her tank will take her. By then, Buck is starting to come back to himself. Moving around in the back seat, trying to sit up. She’ll have to struggle to get him inside. They finally stop in a small town called Santa Rosa, with a motel that’s almost entirely vacant and a cash rate of fifty per night. It’s perfect.

Once she gets the key, she brings their things inside, then comes back for Buck. He’s managed to sit up with his head against the seatrest, fumbling weakly at the door handle until she opens it. He looks so confused and afraid. Abby assures him again that they’re safe before she helps him to his feet and walks him into the motel room. He collapses on the bed pretty quickly, and tries to kick out at her when she unties his shoelaces. 

“Relax,” she reminds. 

She tosses his sneakers to the side. He should be more comfortable this way. There are tears in his eyes as he lays there, gripping the cheap motel sheets and looking around the room. She isn’t sure what he’s searching for, but it doesn’t matter. She still has to ditch her car, so she’ll have to make sure he rests while she does so. One of the things she got when they stopped was a water bottle. Abby pops its cap, gets a couple more of the sleeping pills- she’s almost out, she’ll need to be more careful after this- and joins him once again on the bed. He shakes his head, jerky and uncoordinated. Still sleepy.

“Open your mouth, Buck.”

He refuses. 

“This is good for you, you have to. C’mon.”

Still, he keeps his mouth shut, so she grabs his jaw and forces it. In go the pills. Then some water, so he doesn’t choke. Just like before, back in LA, she covers his mouth and plugs his nose until he has no choice but to swallow if he wants to breathe. She doesn’t like hurting him, but it’s the only way they’ll be able to be together. He’ll realize that, with time. Buck locks his eyes on hers as he finally swallows.

“Open,” she warns, when she moves her hand. He parts his lips, lifts his tongue to show her that he hasn’t stowed the pills away. “See, I knew it was okay. You’re just fine, baby.”

She kisses him properly for the first time. It’s just as good as she always imagined, even if Buck refuses to part his lips for her. Abby can respect that; it is their first kiss after all, he may want to keep things slow for now. Still, she winds up breathless when she pulls away, and can’t resist holding his face for a moment more. His eyes are shut now. His chest heaves beneath her. He feels it too, the connection, the passion. The need to feel every inch of her. 

“I’ll be right back, just rest.”

She feels secure enough that he’ll stay put and go back to sleep, so she goes to dump the car at a used sale lot. It’s not like she’ll ever need it again. She has Buck, and they’re here in this little getaway, and there’s no reason either of them will ever need to leave. There’s a gas station within walking distance of the motel in case they need more groceries. 

By now it’s nearing dusk, making it easy to ditch her car among the others at the lot and find her way back to the road. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to use her uber app to call a ride. Anyone trying to take Buck from her could track that. Besides, she ditched her phone out the window on the I-5 hours ago so they couldn’t track it. All she can do is wait, her thumb out like hitchhikers on posters for someone to finally slow to a stop for her. It takes a long time- perhaps too long- for that to happen, but the girl who finally stops has kind eyes. 

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks through the window.

Abby nods and crosses her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I just got in a fight with my husband and he made me get out of the car. Do you think you could give me a ride to the motel in town? I think it’s nearby.”

“Oh yeah, sure. It’s like, five minutes away, get in. I’m Tracy.”

“Abby.”

She slips into the seat and they ride quietly to the motel, listening to the radio play a poppy beat reminiscent of the latest music awards Abby put on to keep her late mother company during a long shift. Tracy is high spirited but respectful of the fact that Abby doesn’t want to talk. After three songs have started and finished, they pull up outside the motel. 

“Good luck with your husband,” Tracy says.

“Thanks. And thank you for the ride!”

She waves until Tracy’s car disappears down the road, and it’s safe to get back to Buck. He’s peacefully asleep on his back from the pills. Finally, they can relax. Abby kneels over him on the bed and strips off his jeans and tee shirt to make him more comfortable. She’d let him sleep just like that, but she doesn’t want him to wake up afraid and do something he’ll regret, so she takes the laces out of his shoes and uses them to bind his wrists to the head board. It’s not too strong, but it shouldn’t hurt him either. She feels guilty about tying him up. But it’s the right thing to do, just like when she had to hit him on his car, until he fully accepts that they’re meant for each other. 

After eating a microwaved meal to keep her strength up- and making a note to get something for Buck to have tomorrow- she strips off most of her own clothes to climb into bed beside him and pull up the covers over both of them. He’s just as warm and perfect as last time. She wishes he could hold her, but maybe next time. Maybe by tomorrow night, he’ll have started to come to terms with it. But for now, she satisfies herself with the fact that he’s here.

Come morning, Buck is awake before her. He’s not struggling. No, he’s relaxed, his hands still where they’re tied to the bedpost, head pillowed against his own bicep. He’s not fully awake yet, she realizes. The sleeping medications are still in his system enough to leave him dizzy and compliant in her arms. 

“Good morning, baby.”

He makes a humming sort of sound, noncommittal and incoherent. She takes the opportunity to nuzzle her face into the crook of his neck. Although it’s faded, nearly gone, she can still catch the barest hints of his cologne. This is the sort of thing she should have known about from day one, but didn’t because Buck didn’t realize quite yet that they’re meant for each other. He’s getting there now, she can tell from the way he doesn’t flinch or fight her off. She knew he would feel it once she got rid of the distractions. 

She enjoys touching him while he’s awake and watching, aware of it as opposed to sleeping through it. Beautiful. He inhales when she curls a hand around his throat. Thumb to his pulse. Yes, he feels this, wants this as much as her. She can’t trust him to untie him quite yet, but soon. Abby lifts her face to kiss him. Still, Buck doesn’t move or respond, but he doesn’t push her away. His hands stay put without strain.

“I love you so much, Buck. More than you could ever know.”

“I just want to go home,” he answers. He’s not looking at her, but rather past her. “I’ll be good, we can be together, but I want to be home with my family.”

Abby tightens her hold on his neck and he chokes slightly, tipping his chin back like that’ll give him more air. “You don’t need them. You have me.”

Only when he’s starting to pull at the shoelaces around his wrists does she release him. Zip ties would be better, but this is only temporary. It’ll hold him for now, especially if she keeps him sleepy until he calms down. She has five more doses that could knock him out, but if she gives him one pill cut in half, it would probably just make him drowsy. That’s good enough. She’ll be crushing them up into his food, anyways, that way he can’t resist them the way he did last night.

“Hey, uh, baby, what happened to my clothes?”

She moves her touches to his face. His birthmark is striking compared to his eyes, and she gets stuck on the smooth skin there as his eyes flutter shut. Happy. Relaxed. Abby keeps her hand there for as long as she can, when there’s so much more of him she can’t wait to touch. 

“You’re more comfortable that way.”

“Right.”

He opens his eyes again as she pushes at his chest, moving him to lay on his back as opposed to his side. The way he goes so easily is beautiful. The trust in him when she throws her leg over his hip and balances herself atop him makes it all so much more beautiful.

“Abby, stop,” he says, pleads, before she can get comfortable. “I- I need more time, I want to do things right. I want to take you on a date first, wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe there’s a good restaurant near here that we could go to.”

She presses her palm over his heart, where she can feel its jackrabbit beat. “We can wait, if you really need to, but you know we have to stay inside. At least until they stop looking for us.”

His heart is racing. He wants this. He wants her. She leans in close and he yanks at his bindings, possibly to get his hands on her in the same way she’s able to do to him. For a moment, Abby even considers releasing them just to feel it. But she can’t trust him yet, not fully, so she refuses. Instead, she goes for another kiss.

For the first time, he reacts.

Buck bites her. He gets her bottom lip, and it’s harsh enough to make her bleed when she pulls away, red drops against his creamy skin when they run off the edge of her jaw. She can’t believe at first he would do that, but then she remembers he hasn’t fully accepted their love yet. The poor thing must be so confused. His chest heaves beneath her, his lower body twisting in an effort to throw her off him.

The thing is, though, he’s still weak. He’s concussed from the truck, the sleeping pills are still in his system, and she has him restrained. Her vision goes white as she backhands him. The cry he makes is remarkably similar to the one outside his apartment, and it subdues him in much the same way. He stills beneath her and looks up at her with those wide, beautiful blue eyes. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult. You thanked me, Buck, you saw me! You loved me, from day one. We are meant to be together! You can’t keep fighting this.”

At that, he goes quiet again. He refuses to look at or speak to her, and when she makes him a cup noodle, he refuses to open his mouth until she pinches his nose and forces him. What, does he think she’s going to let him kill himself? Besides, the pills are in it too, and she needs to keep him calm until he’s ready to love her as he’s supposed to. 

For the rest of the evening, he’s difficult, even refusing to turn his head to allow her to wipe off the blood with a wet complimentary towel. There’s a cut across his forehead that’s mostly scabbed over, and a nasty bruise. It won’t do any permanent damage, she’s fairly sure. Though it’ll hurt for a while, and he whimpers when she scrubs too hard at the edges. 

“Can you be a good boy, and I’ll get you some tylenol?” 

He turns his face away. 

She sighs and leaves him to sulk while she has her own evening meal, turning on the TV to cover the sound of his pathetic sniffling. He’ll cry himself out sooner or later, and grow to accept her comfort. The news is on, going over the weather. Just as she starts eating, it switches to their main story- a picture of her own face, from her driver’s license, next to Buck’s official firefighter photo that first caught her attention after they spoke. She glances at him and turns the volume up slightly. 

“Abigail Clark allegedly abducted Firefighter Evan Buckley outside his apartment in broad daylight yesterday morning. Authorities say prior to the kidnapping, she had been stalking him, including putting cameras in his home and breaking in while he was sleeping. Their whereabouts are currently unknown, but it is believed they traveled North or East from Los Angeles county. If you’ve seen either of these people, LAPD urges you to call the tip line on the screen immediately.”

“They’re still looking for me.”

Abby turns to see Buck holding his head up, staring at the screen with bleary eyes. 

“They’re not gonna stop looking. Someone saw you, and they’re gonna find me, and I’ll go home and you’re gonna live in a cage.”

“Stop talking.”

He snorts. “Or what? Gonna drug me again?”

If he still feels like being difficult, she’ll play along. This is a hard adjustment, she understands that, but he doesn’t need to be so aggressive about it. Abby stands up and comes to the edge of the bed. The change is instant. He scoots up the bed, away from her, so he’s able to cover his face with his arms. He begs her not to hurt him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby, but you need to stop resisting it. I know you feel it. We don’t have to live like this, just- just accept that we’re meant for each other.”

“I want to go home.”

His eyes begin to fill with tears. She almost feels bad, but then she remembers that the pain is all a product of his decisions. Once he surrenders to the fact that they’re soulmates, she won’t have to do this anymore. The pills make him slow, his movements uncoordinated when she puts a hand on his throat again and squeezes. She couldn’t kill him this way. She isn’t strong enough to, and doesn’t want to, but it makes him regret being difficult as he thrashes beneath her.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Buck.”

When his eyes begin to roll back in his head, she lets go, and lays down beside him. Again with the crying. She’s getting impatient with him. If this carries on, she won’t be able to take it slow, because she  _ knows _ that he’ll accept they’re soulmates once they make love. But the second she reaches for his boxers, he throws himself away so violently that he falls off the bed, and one of his shoulders dislocates with a loud pop. He screams, this time. 

“Leave me alone!”

Instead she drags his body back onto the mattress and forces his shoulder back into place, the way she’s coached hundreds of people to do in an emergency. He wails again, but no longer jumps away from her touch. Instead, he just shivers and cries and flinches when she cups his face. 

“You’re making this harder on yourself. Stay still.”

He starts kicking her when she reaches for his boxers again, refusing to be good and let her show him how it’s supposed to be. She’s losing her patience with it, genuinely considering forcing more medication on him just to get him to stop fighting her. But maybe, just maybe, it’ll be easier if she gives him one more night. Abby lets him squirm away, tire himself out, before laying down and cuddling close against his chest again. He doesn’t push her away. This is harder than she thought, but it’s not over yet.

Abby puts a hand on one of his legs to hold it still, even though he twitches away. His calf is muscular, the same as the rest of his body, and has little give to it when she presses her thumb into the curve of it. He has nice legs, just as well built as his arms. She can imagine them bracketing her hips, all of Buck firm against her, his lips on her cheek or her neck. 

“I don’t want to be here,” he whispers. His cheeks are wet. “Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

“You’re not listening to me.”

She puts space between them and he relaxes against the bed. Watching her. She’s not going to hurt him if he can just calm down. While he slowly begins to regulate his breathing and stops crying, she goes into the main hotel lobby to get a bucket of ice. It gives her time to calm down as well. She’s frustrated, she’ll admit, at how slow Buck is being on the uptake, but she’s not giving up on him yet. 

By the time she returns, he has his mouth on the shoelace ties around his hands, pulling a little with his teeth at the tight knots in an attempt to undo them. He’s trying to leave her. But they’re meant for each other, he can’t do this, it’s not right. She doesn’t think before swinging the bucket full of ice into his face. Like every time, he screams, blood dribbling from his mouth as he cowers away.

“I’m sorry,” he slurs.

He doesn’t mean it.

If he meant it, he wouldn’t have done that in the first place, and she hates the way he pretends otherwise now. There’s no point in striking him again, so she sets the bucket aside and lays with him one more, cupping his face. His jaw is bruising and swelling already, a compliment to the blood on his chin and chest. He’s crying all over again when she cups his battered face. 

“Baby, I need you to relax and accept that we’re meant for each other. Then I wouldn’t have to hurt you.”

He turns away from her, physically moving his body onto his other side so she can’t look at his face. Instead, she’s left with the slope of his back, which she’s more than happy to explore. She’s spent so much time with his face, his chest, his front- but not so much with this just as beautiful part of him. He jumps at her touch without really trying to get away. 

She presses her lips against the nape of his neck. Follows the path of his spine. She doesn’t bother to go too far down, all too aware it’ll make him panic once more, and Abby is getting a little tired of it. He’s only become more resistant to the truth. She’s starting to wonder if she can ever get through to him, or if she should cut her losses. Then she would be the last thing he ever sees, and spend as much time as she wants with Buck completely unable to fight her any longer. 

When she glances down at the ice bucket, contents melting in it and across the floor, she thinks about it. If she hit him enough times, she’d kill him, but she can’t stomach the idea of doing anymore damage to his beautiful face.

“Look at me, Buck. Evan.”

He doesn’t move until she grabs his shoulder and forces him. 

“If you can’t accept that we’re meant for each other, I can’t let anyone else have you.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I don’t want to. But if you’re going to be difficult, I won’t have a choice.”

His bottom lip trembles until she presses her thumb against it, smearing the red blood in a mimicry of lipstick, the same that she left on his cheek before she took him here. There’s blood in his teeth. 

“I don’t wanna die, Abby.”

“Then be good.”

He whimpers, but before he can respond once more, someone knocks against their door. She doesn’t know why. No takeout has been ordered, and she’s paid for the night already. Buck’s eyes are wide and he yanks at his wrists. 

“Help me! Someone help! She kidnapped me! Help me! Help!”

Abby covers his mouth but he just tries to bite her and keeps screaming around her palm. His whole body moves, trying to break free of her, of the restraints, of everything. But he’s still sleepy and hurt. He isn’t stronger than her. 

“Miss Clark, open up, please. We know that Firefighter Buckley is here with you. We know you don’t want to hurt him. Open the door and come out with your hands up.”

She lets go of Buck and he starts yelling again. 

“Please, help me! She’s been hurting me, she hurt me, help me! Help! Help me!”

“Buck, sweetheart, it’s okay.” The voice is familiar now, maybe the officer Buck had called back in LA. “Just breathe. We’re here.”

Abby approaches the door and looks through the peephole. There’s multiple officers, in uniform, standing outside. Front and center is the one from LA. They found her, and they’re going to take Buck away. She can’t let them have him. He’s hers. They’re soulmates 

She grabs her keys off the table. One of them is a swiss knife, and she flips through it for the blade. This is the first time she’s really thought about hurting him before doing it, but it’s what has to be done. If she can’t have him, no one can. Buck is hers. 

He shakes his head and scoots his whole body back against the headboard of the bed.

“No, please! She’s gonna kill me, help! Abby, no! No!”

The door bursts open. They must have broken it down. In an instant there are hands on her arms, taking away her keys and cuffing her in tight metal. The officer she recognizes joins Buck on the bed. As Abby watches, she cuts his bindings and pulls his head against her chest protectively. He clings to her, sobbing, staying put on the bed with all the blood stains and smearing it along the officer’s uniform, right alongside snot and tears.

“He’s mine!”

They’re dragging her away from Buck. Further and further, out the door, until she’s trapped in the back of a cop car with nothing but the memory of his skin under her hands. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @gaychimney


End file.
